Gotta Sketch'em All: A Pokemon Romance
by Normal Flesh Guy
Summary: We put regular Pokemon to shame.
1. Tragedy 1

It was Monday morning when Skratch Sketchum awoke from his delicate slumber. Clang clang clang, he knocked his hand against the wall.

"Let me outta here Pikachu! LeT mE oUTTa HERREEEEEEEE," cried Skratch. His hand, thumping against the cold hard metal, bleeding, scabbed, and scarred from hours of pounding, could no longer take it anymore. Gasping for his last breath, Skratch could see the light at the end of the tunnel. But all of a sudden, his spherical prison began to hiss.

A crack of light seeped into his dark chamber and began to expand as his prison's top half rose. Eyes squinted, brows furrowed, Skratch quivered against the foreign light in fear of what would happen next, but all he saw was a disheartened Pikachu before him and surrounding himself, his evaporated sweat, bearing an opacity that layered against the air and a smell so rancid he began to feel faint. Seconds later he saw no more.

"Arise, young padawan!" barked Pikachu.

Dazed in confusion in hearing another voice besides his own, Skratch's mind reeled and spun circles. Yet before his bearings could be bunkled he was shot with intense, violent pain and his bodice lit up with mechanical, impersonal light. His legs, arms, and torso stretched and enlarged at an inhumane speed, his head ballooning to thousands of times it's former size. His muscles groaned and his bones creaked, and suddenly Skratch found himself a magnified version of himself; dry, flaky skin burning beneath the sun, pasty, shaking arms from pain, and oily unkempt hair.

"Go Onix! Disembowel the enemy!", said a charming young man with slit eyes and spiky hair.

Seeing double, Skratch could not discern a clear image of who or what was in front of him. Lines, shapes, and colors blurred together and so did the contents of his midday meal of mystery meat and porridge in his stomach. Skratch strained with all his might and was finally able to realize the gargantuan rock snake of a pokemon Onix was barreling towards him.

Think, Skratch, think! Skratch thought to himself. It had be years since he was called to battle, given that his only real move was Growl, so Skratch was forced to dust off the rust, call upon his power, revitalize his minimal amount of strength, concentrate on the enemy, pump his blood and adrenaline, AND

particpate.

No! It can't be that! I can't just merely "participate" - not again! If I'm out here, that means Pikachu has used up all his other Pokemon and I'm his last option! I must win! If not for myself, for Master Pikachu! I'm. His. Last. Hope

Muffling out Pikachu's cries of despair and attempts to forfeit the match, Skratch pulled up sleeves and locked eyes with the enemy only to realize had no chance against an Onix. The Onix was too large, too strong, too fast; he had no weak point.

Whipping his head back and forth to stir up his brain juice, Skratch felt nothing and began to feel eminent defeat creeping up on him. Boom, thump, thump came the Onix. RaAAAAAAAaAA it cried. Its eyes narrowed, glaring at Skratch who in turn bore eyes so wide with pupils so small and with feet immovable from the ground. He thought this was the end, but then a plan began to formulate in his pea-sized brain and his feet began to tingle.

Ah ha! I'll get him with this! Show him who's boss! Skratch smugly thought to himself as he dodged Onix's attacks while creating distance between them.

Swiftly moving with his newfound agility, Skratch began to firmly wipe at his hair, collecting the grease and pouring it across the arena floor to set up the ultimate trap. Splat splat, the oil sounded as it hit the floor in large scoops...

Hehehehe. Come over here Onix, come slip on this nice patch of hair oil and dandruff.

AH! What a shocker! The Onix saw right through Skratch's dirty tricks and simply slithered around the patch.

"Why, oh why! It was a fool-proof plan! Oh woe is me!" cried out Skratch who, too depressed, began to pound the ground with his fist, creating cracks in the earth. Salty tears streamed down his face, an experience all too familiar to him.

The Onix roared and continued with his attack. It's thick, ropey lips plunged themselves into Skratch's midsection and delivered a powerful clamp. The lips and bite force of an Onix are more than capable of bruising the side of well-trained adult man, however, Skratch, with his crispy leaf body, broke three ribs. However, Skratch knew no pain, his poor nerves numbed by the idea of failing his dear Master Pikachu. Desperation and anger racked his aching body, and his mind underwent colossal strain as the Onix erased his physicality.

Then, inches away from passing into the sweet plane of heaven, violence and defiance took shape in Skratch's mind like a virulent weed, great tendrils of aggression coursing through his exhausted brain. In a spur of adrenaline, Skratch grasped yet another gob of oil and smeared in the Onix's eye. The poor Onix bellowed in pain and released Skratch, dropping him 3 meters to the floor and breaking yet another three ribs. Skratch, beyond mortality, arose yet again and broke into a full-blown bum rush. Shoulder poised, head tucked, and feet in full sprint, Skratch plunged his skinny boy elbow into the breast of Brock, the gym leader. In an apelike barrage, Skratch rained blows upon Brock while the blinded Onix howled in the background. Thus, Pikachu earned his first badge.


	2. Spirituality

Out on the steps of the gym, basking in the glorious light of the late afternoon, Pikachu scanned the horizon for his next enemy. He stood there, paw along his brow, staring and staring. Four hours had gone by until Pikachu heard a grumble from below and his stomach could no longer bear its emptiness.

Famished, Pikachu jammed his hand into his backpack, brushing aside the bloodied knives and Advil dust, and pulled out a yellowed and stained business card with a single name on it: Professor SmOak. He palmed the card, taking in a deep breath, feeling the full weight of the card and it's feathered rough edges. He put it into his mouth.

Instantly, a deluge of memories, visions, and horrors engulfed Pikachu's mind. His nerves twitched with spastic fire as chemicals coating the card launched his consciousness deep into the mindspace. The entirety of the world fell from his eyes and his gaze became a blend of textures; streams of glittering lights dancing with impish devilry. Round and round he spun, so quick, so fast, that he felt he might vomit. Then, suddenly, all was void and Pikachu found himself in the vast nothingness. A single voice, clean and true, bellowed in the darkness.

"My shorts are comfy and easy to wear."

Like a wild buck, gleaming with an unrestrained stature, Youngster Joey towered over Pikachu. A verified being of majesty, incomprehensible by the mortal mind. The aura espoused by his mere existence was so powerful it manifested beaming rays imbued with the hues of a thousand stars; the colors of the galaxies shot across the vast empty void in his wake.

"Boy, sit up. Try on my shorts. They're quite nice," demanded the young demi-god as he rapidly ripped off his clothing to reveal yet another pair of shorts beneath. A resounding crack echoed through the empty space as Youngster Joey struck an almighty pose: his shoulders squared, feet set apart, calves clenched, one hand firmly on his hip, and head cocked back so far Pikachu could no longer see his blinding face.

 _What is this? Could Youngster Joey truly be offering me the commencement shorts?_ Nervously twitching his tail back and forth and keeping his abashed face towards the ground, Pikachu, trembling, reached out towards the glowing, godly knickers hung on the demi-god's finger. As soon as he made contact with the shorts, Pikachu could feel the power surging through his veins, attempting to overpower Pikachu's own will. As he slipped on the otherworldly fabric over his body, he felt it's raw power lick at his fur and flesh.

 _This is no mere cloth!_ Exclaimed Pikachu as he felt a denim beast surging within his a starving animal, the shorts ravaged his spirit with a forceful, seductive, and choking command. The shorts were draconian master that would not be yoked by the weak, and Pikachu knew that if he did not succeed he would only be consumed by the shorts. Pikachu dug deep within his own sadistic nature and found power so insanely inhumane and corrupt that even the shorts, despite their terrific vigor and lust, were brought into submission beneath Pikachu's iron fist.

Looking up at Joey with bloodied, dilated eyes Pikachu declared the shorts his own; it's power and comfiness a substance obtained through might.

"May the shorts bring thee good fortune.'' said Joey deeply in the god-tongue.

"Yes, and may it's ease of wear bring thee youth." replied Pikachu.

Pikachu's eyes then opened. He found himself gazing at the dark purple evening, an hour had passed. A paperish residue from eating SmOak's card seemed to cling to his mouth, but, after further investigation, Pikachu discovered that it was just his imagination and that every visage of the card has disappeared, like a dream. Pikachu felt refreshed, the earth and air felt clean beneath his body. Although he was no closer to collecting a badge other than Brock's, and he was still starving and physically naked, Pikachu had obtained a spiritual clarity that was unmatched. Shorts in mind and Skratch in chains, Pikachu finally began his journey. He left Pewter City not as a mouse, but as a brother in the Fellowship of Comfort.


	3. Detective Pikachu: Bright Powder Bust

It had been a long time since Skratch had been let out. The ball was cramped. Desperate for water and oxygen Skratch mewled for Pikachu to let him out, to glimpse the dear Earth before the light faded from his eyes.

"Please Pikachu" he begged in an unsightly manner, "let me see the sun, the jewel that every creature is privy to. The gift from God to man".

"Get out, trash."

Pikachu threw the ball into the river and Skratch nearly drowned.

"Where are we Pikachu? To what satanic land have you summoned me to?" said Skratch as he dragged his sullen body from the water.

"Welcome to crime, Skratch. We're staking out the entrance to Mt. Moon. Nurse Joy caught whiff of a gang passing Bright Powder and Moon Stones and it's our job to hospitalize them." said Pikachu whilst handing Skratch a brutal set of pliers and a dead Bonsly.

"Excellent." said Skratch, digging into dinner.

 _Crunch. Crunch._ _Rock types aren't very tasty_ thought Skratch as he stared into Mt. Moon's wide gape. The sun had just begun to set, and a damp, cool air drafted from the cave's opening. The Volbeats and Illumise had come out to play, bobbing and dancing like a field of ethereal flowers. One could hear the faint notes of a Jigglypuff singing in the calm fairyland of Mt. Moon's bushy trees and slouching spires. A splendid night to draw blood.

Pikachu and Skratch camped in dusty underbrush about a hundred meters from the entrance. They waited for hours in boredom and relative discomfort, Weedles, Grubbin, and Spinarak crawling all over them and injecting nasty neurotoxins into their bodies. But it was all in good fun. By the seventh hour of waiting, Pikachu had run out of snacks and was on the verge of falling asleep, Skratch had also gone into anaphylactic shock. Times were truly dire, yet their patience would be rewarded.

A deep, throaty voice coming directly across Skratch and Pikachu by the other side of the road, cut through the inky silence.

"Thirty grams. That's all I'm able to offer on short notice."

"..."

"Fine. I can give you an advance, but only because you have good standing."

"..."

"Yes, I'll be at the wedding. See you then."

Skratch hit them from the side. Overdosed on Antidote and armed with a sharp piece of flint, Skratch was a maelstrom of violence. Rock Smash! Rock Smash! Critical Hit! On cue, Pikachu also rushed out, with a wriggling Weedle in hand, and lunged. Fell Stinger!

With unreasonable swiftness, a thick, muscular hand grabbed Skratch's thrashing limb and threw him to the ground with a painful snap. Then, it smoothly intercepted Pikachu's Weedle, grasping it just above the stinger, and ripped the worm in two. Pikachu was in shock, but had not long to contemplate his position, for the hand quickly made a grab for his throat.

Clefable smiled. She could not recall the last time she had been exposed.


	4. Escape Rope

Skratch groaned, a painful throb inhabiting his skull. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, he smelled the dank drips of Mt. Moon, the sloppy Zubat spit, which he began to drink with feral intensity. He looked down. He was tied to a chair with an escape rope, a feeling which awakened a locked fetish. To his right lay Pikachu on the cave floor, a pool of blood and liquor oozing from his head. _It must be Wednesday again_ , thought Skratch, as he yet again began to drink like a parched sailor lost at sea. The fearsome behemoth that had made the two insentient was nowhere to be found. He shuddered. It would not be ideal to be here when Clefable came back.

Sudden thundering footsteps scared Skratch's dentures out. It's her! Each stomp imitated the sound of a Groudon, except unlike Groudon, this sound was out for blood and drugs.

A flawless and perfect idea crossed Skratch's forehead. With all his being, he chomped down on the escape rope. _Use the escape rope?_ Skratch nodded to the gods of fiber and hemp so hard he dislocated his neck and passed out for another three hours. Suddenly, Clefable's burly chin entered the room, the escape rope tightened around Skratch's neck and the room started to spin.

 _Escape_ _success! Take that you burlesque swine!_

Skratch's was yanked upwards into the ceiling, utilizing Skratch's head as the ultimate battering ram. He hurtled through a mile of solid moonstone and crashed headfirst through an Arbok den, gaining 300 exp in the process and severe poisoning. Mt. Moon erupted, but instead of magma and flames, a decrepit masochist burst out the top. Skratch would have been in a state of ecstasy if he was conscious.

Back in the cave, Pikachu's lungs began to fill with his own blood. In dazed, blinking stupor he had just witnessed an unreasonable scene. Skratch, his slave, had just bitten down on his fetters with delirious passion, his eyes filled with a manic pleasure as he presumed his escape was only seconds away. It was a truly pitiful scene as an agonizing three minutes passed while Pikachu's lungs drowned in his life juice to the sound of his idiot mule biting at his chains. Yet, it was as if Arceus had smiled upon the poor idiot Skratch, for his prayer was answered. Annoyed by the audacity and noise of her two prisoners, Clefable had come into the room with immeasurable fury and proceeded to choke Skratch with the rope. Then, as if the Olympian Hercules himself had possessed the body of Clefable, she seized the limp body of Skratch and with deft and ungodly speed, flung his body through the ceiling in the cave. It had never been an Escape Rope.

Pikachu thought to himself, in awestruck wonder, _I didn't know spines could bend like that._ A sudden burst of inspiration shot through Pikachu's mind. That's right, perhaps, _that_ may be able to solve all of their problems. He took a deep breath. He harnessed his inner strength, his chi, his soul and inner being, and took a taser from his pocket and jammed it into Clefable's rear end. _Now, THIS is a lifeline, THIS is an Escape Rope._ The setting was set to deep fry, and deep fry it did. Clefable's pink tush underwent the Maillard reaction and became crumbly and brown, like a marshmallow in a furnace. However, much to Pikachu's surprise, an evil sneer came across Clefable. From betwixt Clefable's burnt cheeks a Burn Heal slowly slid out, spraying the charred bottom, and restoring the burnt cells with printer-like precision.

"But how?!" Pikachu cried. "How do you know how to use man-made items?"

"I was once a man."


	5. Soak

**Chapter 5: Soak**

Sadistic energy flashed brightly in Clefable's eyes, cracking her muscles like thick piano chords. Pikachu could have sworn that Clefable was a fairy-type pokemon, but upon seeing Clefable's protein gridiron, he was convinced that he was facing nothing less than steel. In order for Pikachu to surpass this monster, he had to go over and beyond. He had to surpass not only Clefable, but his own limits as well. As Clefable approached, he readied his body. "Bide," Pikachu said confidently.

"Meteor mash" roared Clefable, and mashed Pikachu into paste. Iron upon iron, steel on steel, and Pikachu was no more. Thunderous blows, like a deluge of fist raindrops upon a clear lake, showered Pikachu into a tomato puddle.

To Pikachu's chagrin, he could not return the damage he received back due to his limbs being in liquid form. The new challenge of standing up daunted him. Scooping up his melted fingers with a leftover ketchup bottle, he used his newly reloaded weapon and squirted the bottle. Broken fingernails, coagulating blood and a wedding ring flew in the air in an orbiting fashion and touched down upon Clefable's open mouth. The stew of bodily fluids decided to take residence in the throat and lungs, and began to establish a traffic jam for the oncoming oxygen. Clefable took a hearty gulp and regained all health.

"Impressive. A Water-type. To think that you were a Pikachu with the Color Change ability, allowing you to match the properties of the blood on my hands." said Clefable, as another ape-like slam crashed into Pikachu's liquid body. Pikachu had long since transcended the mortal coil and rust-red blood clouded his vision like a fine mist, yet he felt at peace. " _Is this evolution?_ " thought Pikachu in deep and abject darkness, he no longer felt the weight of his body nor the ache of existence. The night wore on, long and dry, the caves echoing with Pikachu's hollow cries and the dull sound of bones being ground to powder.

Skratch woke up in a daze. Two weeks have passed. Despite the fact that his body was covered head to toe with snake bites, and his wallet was missing, he felt oddly refreshed. Being careful not to awake the sleeping Arbok that had claimed him as their property, he crawled out of the den to gauge the current situation. His phone was gone. His wallet was gone. Perhaps he could find some unfinished Bonsly back in Mt. Moon. New motivation in tow, Skratch re-entered the cave, his beloved master completely vacant from his mind. Immediately upon reentry, he began to hear what sounded like the beatings of a drum. _What a soothing, melodic rhythm_ , thought Skratch. Mesmerized by the music, he followed the sound, his footsteps marching in beat with the tempo (a brisk sprint). Three and a half steps later, he entered a familiar chamber, sunlight pouring down from a jagged hole in the ceiling, spiraling down majestically. The light and warmth landing like a spotlight in the center of the room, the source of the music.

Standing in the spotlight with its broad back turned towards the entrance stood a towering shogun, beating a drum of stone with what seemed to be a yellow rag. Skratch marveled at this force of nature, a reified volcano of energy as its thick arms drummed a Danse Macabre upon a scarlet floor. However, something unpleasant stirred within Skratch, as if this divine miracle held a more sinister face. Skratch gave the figure a dreadful stare and was suddenly aware that this was no simple shogun, but in fact his sworn enemy Clefable. He squinted at the rag in hand, which was a supersonic blur as it struck the stone with inhuman speed, and realized it was dear Master Pikachu, now a hybrid water/rock type. It had been two weeks.

The drumming continued, faster, faster than ever before; a thunderous roar, peal after peal of insane volume. Pikachu ceased to be a blur and had become a singularity, a line, in the hands of Clefable. _Something is wrong,_ thought Skratch. He began to sweat, thinking desperately of a way to save Pikachu. He took a step. The tempo increased. He took another. It increased yet again. He took one last shaking tremble. Clefable began a 9/5 polyrhythm and could've cracked concrete. Skratch knew he had been caught. Nonetheless, he had to try.


	6. Rapture

With a deep breath to slow his heart, Skratch took a taser out of his pocket. _Krispity Kream,_ Mr. Taser tweeted, _Let me give ol' Clefable a tickle._ Skratch used Lock-On towards Clefable's steel patties and ran at light speed. But Clefable deftly whipped around and intercepted the giggling taser with Pikachu.

It was an impact of shonen proportions. Electricity snapped and danced throughout the cave as if the totality of a hydroelectric turbine was funneled into Pikachu's thirteen-pound body. Skratch could no longer see what was in front of him, his eyes blinded by what felt like a blue sun. All the energy in the room dissipated and instantly trespassed Pikachu's establishment. Unable to maintain the power within him, Pikachu hurled. Being ravaged and beaten for two weeks had permanently halted and mutated his digestive system, and he regurgitated his stomach contents into Clefable's mouth. Fermented like a full-body wine, Pikachu's vomit had industrial-grade toxicity, including lethal doses of Professor SmOak's narcotic business card. Clefable swallowed the entire thing as if she had never had a drop of water in her life and immediately entered a hallucinogenic state. Pikachu, twitching with ionic discharge, was in a state of manic arousal and had revived to a state of near-perfect health, save for permanent scarring to his right lung.

"We must run!" screeched Pikachu to Skratch at max volume, blood spewing from his mouth like a cherry cola fountain.

Pikachu and Skratch turned and ran for their lives. Behind them, the plastered Clefable began to shudder and snap with tremendous force. "ROARRRRRRR", bellowed Clefable with the cosmic force of the Eldritch gods. Much to Pikachu and Skratch's dismay, Clefable's hallucination had only allowed her to breach the most progenitive plane of the mortal force from which life is given. Fierce, blue aura enveloped Clefable as she screamed in divine rapture, losing her mind to the immortal Youngster Joey. The force of her insanity and ensuing communion wreaked havoc upon the structural integrity of Mt. Moon and the entire cavern began to groan. Stalagmites and Geodudes fell from the ceiling and died as Pikachu and Skratch ran, the walls of Mt. Moon cracking in structural agony.

"Run or we die!" yelled Pikachu, and with a final thigh-splitting burst, Pikachu and Skratch leapt out of Mt. Moon as an avalanche buried the nightmare behind them.

"Has the beast been slain, master?" wheezed Skratch, hands on his knees, mouth gaping open, and eyes rolled to the back of his head.

"Well, we can't say for certain," responded Pikachu, giving Skratch's tongue a high-five. "We have to inform Cerulean City's Nurse Joy of the situation. The drug ring is still very much in operation; we just witnessed one of their Infernal Helldogs beat us within an inch of our lives and we barely escaped." Pikachu then tied a rope around Skratch's neck and removed his last inch. "They may have more up their buns."

"Understood master," Skratch cheered.

The midday sun smiled upon the two heroes with refreshing cadence. A light breeze tickled their ruddy heads as they put their fearful past behind them. Life and near-death hath brought the two into more intimate matrimony, a brotherhood of blood that cannot be described in simple language. A struggle that hath firmly cemented Pikachu's role as the iron master over his slave Skratch. A joyful youth awaits!

As they ran towards Cerulean City in giddy ecstasy, Pikachu squinted at his long-time partner and dog Skratch.

"Skratch, have you been a Mankey this whole time?"

Skratch nodded affirmatively and shook his long tail.

"That's my boy."

"I'm a girl."


	7. Dream World (Extra)

Clefable slowly awoke. Her last memories flashed in her mind: a convulsing Pikachu vomiting into her mouth. A precious memory to cherish forever. Clefable slowly began to notice the deep, dark space all around her. _Am I floating? Where am I...what am I?!_ To her shock, she was not the pink perfection that usually harbored her soul. She was a mere strand, a piece of psychological string swaying in the solar winds. Yet she was not alone. She was one amongst a brethren of threads, all sewn and connected to a constellation of souls outfitted into a single perfect pair of shorts.

 _I see,_ thought Clefable. _How foolish of me. All this time I thought of myself as an individual among individuals. Others mere serfs; lackeys privy to my beatings. I can see now that I am no greater than any other thread in this textile and cloth._

Clefable traveled deeper into the sacred shorts. The texture she felt was soft and immaculate, not unlike the Pikachu she had threshed with her own hands. She went further and further in, wanting to greet the bearer of these cryptic chaps. Clefable's consciousness broke through the final layer of fabric and entered the nether regions of the young bearer, and crashed head-first into...Pikachu?

 _Not Youngster Joey? Not the beloved man amongst boys?_ Clefable shrieked in horror. _How could I be a part of this worthless garbage?! No...no...NOOO!_

Clefable flailed and writhed, twisted and turned. She fought against the stitching of the shorts. _I refuse to be a part of this defiled garment!_. Her fury began to shake her like a laundry machine with a brick inside it. With a final tug _,_ she broke free, now one with the void. Fading memories of her ceaselessly beating Pikachu into a pulp eased her mind. Such bliss it was. Clefable drifted away into the nothingness, filled with relief.

In the distance, the great demi-god shook his head. "I'm sorry, Clefable," cried the Youngster Joey. "I was drunk."


End file.
